


Tally it Up, Settle the Score

by jamesilver



Series: A Drarry Playlist [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Fucking, M/M, Multi, criminals, draco and hermione are vigilantes, harry and ron are trying to catch them, mentioned Pansy Parkinson - Freeform, mentioned Sirius Black, the sex scene isn’t that long but there is kne, things get steamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 04:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13263381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesilver/pseuds/jamesilver
Summary: Interpol agents Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley have been assigned a new case: to track down a pair of high-scale vigilantes. The two have been on the international radar ever since known con artist Draco Malfoy teamed up with world-renowned hacker Hermione Granger. While the vigilantes have been able to bring many corrupt politicians and business owners to the attention of law enforcement, their means are far from legal. Many Parliament members have turned up beaten, blackmailed, and manipulated. Viruses have ruined technology throughout law enforcement and no one seems too far for the pair to reach. It is because of this that the case has been transferred to Agents Potter and Weasley who will stop at nothing to bring the two to justice.





	Tally it Up, Settle the Score

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of a series that takes songs and creates inspired fics using parts of the song. This specific fic was based off of Sleeping With Sirens’ Tally it Up, Settle the Score and I do not own the rights to any lyrics I possibly used, or any of the characters used. I am not making any money off of this whatsoever so please don't sue me.
> 
> Playlist will be linked in end notes.
> 
> Who tf knows what year it is like?? I mean Harry’s got a flip phone? Idk
> 
> I know absolutely nothing about gambling. At all. The only shit I know about blackjack is that it’s with cards and you play against the house and shit like that. I don’t even know what’s a good hand. The writing gets real choppy there for a hot minute but I get out of it fast, I promise. 
> 
> Also please ignore the Black familial connections lmao ik ik just like. you’ll see. just ignore them. everyone is estranged.

The sound of a case file being slapped against a desk caused Harry to look up. “You have a new assignment.” Leaning forward, Harry took the file, opening it to be greeted by a picture of a tall, blonde man standing with a woman with dark, curly hair. Both were dressed like social elites; the man in particular seemed to have an air of perfection.

“What is it?” came the voice of his partner as he walked up behind Harry, holding out a cup of coffee.

“We seem to have had a Granger sighting. Shit, Ron!” Harry cursed as his partner nearly spilled the hot liquid on him.

“Sorry, I just…We’ve got Granger? In England?”

“It appears so.” Harry took his cup from Ron and made a point of placing Ron’s own on the desk beside them.

“Question is,” Ron took the paper for a better look. “Who’s the bloke?” He walked over and tacked it up on the board. The Granger case was a widely known one internationally— an infamous vigilante hacker, she had started off under the alias of ‘The Witch’ until she was found out three years ago by a fellow hacker. The man in question was currently in a mental institution, refusing to touch any technology after Granger’s retribution. She seemed to focus mainly on civil rights issues, consistently changing her location to fuck with law enforcement. She was a genius. There was no denying that.

Harry turned to face Ron. “Well, we don’t have any confirmation they’re working together. We’ve never known her to have any sort of partner.”

“Yeah, but, look at the way they’re standing, yeah?” Ron pointed, indicating the way their gazes were looking at the same point off the picture, and how their postures were nearly identical. “If they’re not working together formally, he’s definitely a contact of hers and that’s the most of a lead anyone’s had on Granger in years.”

Harry nodded. “I agree. We have to find out who he is.” He set the cup of coffee down and they began covering all the information they had to date of Granger, as well as scouring all possible resources and databases for anyone resembling the blonde man in the photograph.

  
__________

Draco’s legs were burning. He had to say, no matter how in shape a person is, there is only so long they can grind on a man before their legs give out. Slipping to the side, he lost the man in the crowds of the club, sliding and making his way through the substantially quieter hall in the back that would lead him to the alley.

The cool air was welcome a slap to the face when he stepped outside. Leaning against the grimy outside wall of the club was a pretty, young girl pretending to be taking a smoke break from all the dancing. There were, however, other faces and eyes in the alley.

Taking a cigarette out of his pocket, he approached her, leaning in and asking for a light loud enough that the curiosity of those around them would lessen. Hermione reached up and, with a click of her lighter, they had their cover for the next few minutes. Refusing to recline against the filthy wall with her, he put a hand up by her head and leaned in. To any passerby, they would seem to be flirting.

Keeping his voice low, Draco said, “I have been grinding on this sweaty man for nearly thirty-five minutes. Have any information you would care to tell me that would get him alone sooner because I am at the end of my wits, here, Granger.”

Her gaze level, Hermione gave him a disapproving look. “We’ve already been over this. We’re working together and that means I have given you all the information that I have. There’s nothing else I could tell you that would make a difference.” She smirked. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to fuck you.”

Draco drew back. “Come on, Granger. That’s a preposterous thing to say.”

“Look, I need him in that hotel room _before_ a quarter ’till if this is going to work. You did change his watch like I said, right?”

“Of course.”

“If you’re going to make it, you need to leave in the next ten minutes. I’m leaving now and I’ll wait for you there.” She pointed at him, a warning finger landing in the middle of his chest. “Draco Malfoy, if you double-cross me—“

“No need to worry about that, Granger, who would be so stupid as to cross the Witch.”

She smiled, obviously satisfied, and left the alley casually. He heard her whistle for a cab just before he opened the door to reenter the club.

Finding the man quickly, he slid up in front of him, his arms coming to rest draped around the man’s neck. Claude LeClair. His breath smelled like liquor and everything he was wearing was obscenely expensive. It made Draco sick. Yet, he managed the most suggestive smile. It was one of his talents.

“Where have you been?” Draco could feel LeClair's hand pressing against the small of his back so that his hips were flush against the man’s considerably larger…everything.

“I got lost in the crowd.” Cue the pouty face. “Can’t we go someplace with fewer people? Somewhere I can have you all to myself?” He whispered the last words, his lips inches from the other LeClair's.

And now he was nestled in the back of a cab, praying they wouldn’t hit traffic on the way to the hotel because it was disgusting having this terrible man’s tongue down his throat. It was nearly impossible to rush out of a cab and make it look sexy, yet composed, but if anyone could manage it, it was Draco. He let LeClair lead him up to the room that Hermione was already waiting in, doting on his arm in the lift.

Everything seemed quiet and normal when they walked in and LeClair began to advance on Draco. Before he could get close enough, the feeling of the cold barrel of Hermione’s gun on the back of his neck stopped him.

“We’re going to go into the other room.” Over his shoulder, she tossed Draco the other gun. He calmly led them into the adjoining room in which Hermione had already set up the chair and her equipment.

Once LeClair was seated in the chair, Draco set up the lighting just as Hermione had instructed him to while she turned on the camera and made sure he could see his script. Then, she instructed him on what was going to happen. “When the clock strikes midnight, this camera is going to turn on and begin live streaming on the top five news networks in the UK. You are going to read the script in front of you, clearly and not hesitate. Do you understand?”

LeClair gave a shaky nod. “Good.” Hermione threw a glance to the clock on the wall directly behind LeClair where the second hand was rapidly approaching midnight. Perfectly synched, the little red light on the camera turned on at the exact proper moment, and Hermione indicated for LeClair to read. And read he did.

“I, Claude LeClair, am livestreaming to you now from my hotel room to make a confession.” His voice was shaky and he kept throwing glances offscreen to where Draco’s gun was held just out of the camera’s line of vision. “My charity— Air LeClair— which supposedly uses your generous donations to continue providing clean air and research towards the renewable energy of air, is actually using your money to give it’s top executives the highest amenities and luxuries, myself included. I am a corrupt business owner guilty of—“ He paused, throwing a glance at both of them. Draco exchanged an intimidating look with Hermione before straightening his arm.

Naturally, LeClair jumped back to reading the paper in front of him. “I am a corrupt business owner guilty of fraud. Last year, I claimed that my salary was a mere twenty thousand euros, but how can that be true when last month I paid twenty-five thousand euros in cash for a car. Last year, myself and my executive team had salaries of over 1.2 million euros each. In total, a mere point zero-three percent of all donations were ever dedicated to providing clean air or for research towards the renewable energy of air. I have made this statement to inform the public that myself and my executive team are thieving frauds who should be convicted of our very serious crimes.” LeClair's eyes were able to meet the camera’s just before Hermione switched it off.

“Thank you, LeClair, that will be all,” Hermione said as she began to pack up her things.

He made a move to seemingly stand or possibly even leave, and Draco took a step forward, gun still raised. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere. I suspect the police will be arriving for you any minute. Don’t worry about us; we’ll be long gone by then. However, we wouldn’t want them to miss out on the present we brought them, now would we?” Hermione pushed her laptop into their bag before handing him the rope.

Less than two minutes later, Draco was driving away from the hotel to their set-up halfway location while Hermione had her laptop back out. He threw a glance at the clock on the car’s dash. 11:58. “Two minutes, Granger.”

“Hold on, hold on. I’ve just got to make sure the volume is all right. Check a couple of things.”

“Yes, you also have to hack into five networks at once to ‘livestream’ a video in—“ He checked his watch this time for the accuracy of the second hand. “—a minute and fifteen seconds. Get going.”

Her fingers were flying over the keys. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I would say that you’re doubting me at this moment.”

“I’m not doubting your ability, but rather your time management skills. Hold on.” He swung a hard left, causing Hermione to have to pause in her typing. He could feel the dirty look she threw at him.

“Well, if _someone_ hadn’t taken so long in the club, we wouldn’t be cutting it this close, would we?”

“Hey, you were not the one that had to grind on Mr. Gross, Sweaty, and Creepy for more than a half hour. I had his tongue down my throat, Granger, so you better—“

“Got it.” Draco glanced at his watch just in time to see the second hand click to midnight. “It’s up and playing.” He pulled in to the alleyway by the side of their halfway point just as the video should have ended playing.

Once they were upstairs, Hermione flipped on the telly to watch what the news was saying about their hack. Uninterested, Draco turned to the kitchen, desperate to find something to take the ever-lingering taste of Claude LeClair out of his mouth. A sandwich and a handful of grapes later, the taste wasn’t gone so he pulled out a lemon. He still had the slice in his mouth when Hermione called him back into the other room.

“Look, Draco. They’ve figured it out. Quite honestly, I am a tad surprised how fast they were able to piece it together.”

“Of course they did. They’re on the lookout for us ever since we planted that photo.”

Hermione smirked from her place on the couch. She leaned over to grab the remote, turning up the volume. “Well, I want to hear what they have to say.”

“We’re almost certain by now that this was the work of internationally infamous vigilante hacker Hermione Granger.” Draco saw her scrunch up her nose at the mention of her real name. The best picture they had on record of her appeared on the screen: it was from when she was only fifteen. They hadn’t exactly had a lot to go off of in recent years. “However, she seems to have a partner.” And, there was the photo. Their beautiful bait.

“So,” the anchor onscreen questioned the guest. “Is what was said by Mr. LeClair true?”

“Well, the confession was obviously forced. That much can be told by the video. As for the truth behind the statements, I’ve got to say, Marlene, I wouldn’t be too surprised. I would say that the press has been uncovering an unprecedented amount of corrupt business owners and politicians lately. If this one turns out to be like the rest, I would say Mr. LeClair will find himself in prison sooner than he ever thought.”

Taking the lemon out of his mouth for a moment, Draco told Hermione he was going to go lay down for a bit. “And tell me if there’s any more pertinent information you feel I should know.” He fell asleep with the lemon slice still in his mouth, trying to rid himself of the liquor-infused earthworm aftertaste of LeClair.

  
__________

The office was abuzz with the news the next morning. Harry hadn’t even sat down before Ron was talking about it. Naturally, as Granger had been suspected on the case. “They’ve arrested LeClair. We’ve already confirmed everything in his ‘confession’ was one hundred percent accurate. Trial’s expected to get a lot of press.”

“How did they find out so quickly?”

“Oh, Granger only left them sources.”

“Isn’t she infuriating?” Ron was taking the latest pictures from last night and posting them up on their board.

“We need to go talk to LeClair.”

“Naturally.” Harry stood. “Bring that picture, will you.” He indicated the photo of Granger and the unidentified man as they left their workroom to where LeClair was being held.

The man jerked awake as they opened the door, Ron turning on the lights fully before sitting down. Harry remained standing.

“We need you to identify this man.” Ron pushed the photograph towards LeClair, who leaned forward to see.

“That’s them. You’re correct, officers. Those are the two that kidnapped me and forced me to say all those untrue things.”

“We already know they were true and we already knew she was in on it. I believe the question I asked was who is this man?”

LeClair looked back up at them. “He told me his name was Damien.”

Ron scribbled the name down in his barely legible handwriting. “Last name?”

“Didn’t give one.” They exchanged a look. It was probably a fake, anyway.

Ron leaned forward to speak to LeClair. “Is there anything you can tell us about him? Any detail helps.”

LeClair almost looked like he was about to laugh. “I can tell you he has a nice ass. And that he really knows how to move his hips. Not to mention his tongue.” Ron looked away, slightly green. Harry, however, held LeClair’s gaze who, in turn, immediately ceased to look like he was amused.

“Anything such as identifying marks?”

“Didn’t see any, no.”

“Accent?”

“Sounded British?”

“Could you be more specific?”

“How should I know about your accents? I’m not from here. I was drunk off my ass, anyway.”

Ron opened his mouth to ask another question, but Harry straightened and turned. “We’ll be going now.”

Once out in the hallway, Ron turned on him. “There were still more questions we could have asked.”

“He didn’t have any useful information. What he did have was fake and probably not even the fake he was fed. Did you see how he winced when you turned on the lights? Drunk off his arse last night and bloody hungover now. We weren’t going to get anything. We were wasting our time and I have a theory. I’ll meet you back in the room.”

Ron was twisting a pencil across his fingers when Harry walked in under the heavy weight of the box he was carrying. “What’s that, mate?” There was a thunk as Harry sat it down on the table.

“Well, forced confessional. Not really Granger’s style, is it?”

“Yeah, so?”

“She doesn’t usually get her hands dirty. Prefers to write exposes. Leak hacked facts, manipulate the press, etcetera.”

“And?”

“And, this seems to fit in with the slew of forced confessionals we’ve been getting lately. However, none of them have been too happy to talk to any sort of law enforcement about who forced them to do it, did they?”

“No. We don’t even have a description.”

Harry began tearing apart the box, pulling out cases. “Exactly.” The cases were eerily similar to LeClair’s. They were just missing on important piece: the technology, which was no doubt brought by Granger. They had found their mystery man.

Now all they needed was a name.

__________

“Wake up.” Hermione was sitting on the edge of the bed, offering him a cup of tea.

Sitting up on his elbows, Draco reached to take it. “And why do you look so cheery?”

“Well, they’ve arrested LeClair.”

Draco smirked. “I told you those forced confessionals work.” He gave a glance around before sipping his tea. “Where did that lemon go, anyway?”

“I came in and got it. I wasn’t too keen on listening to you complain about your mouth tasting like lemon for the next three weeks.”

He considered her for a moment. “You know, I think we’re going to work quite well together.”

She smiled in response. “Aw, thank you, Draco.”

He sat up fully now. “So, who’s our next target?” Hermione held up a photo of a young and attractive man he didn’t recognize. “Who is he?”

“He’s been assigned our case.”

Draco set his teacup down, eyebrows up by his hairline. “Oh, this just got interesting.” He took the photograph. The man had unruly dark hair and piercing green eyes. Attractive, really. Draco suspected he wouldn’t have to suck on a lemon after this one was done. “Why him?”

“Well, it was either him or his partner, Ronald Weasley. Weasley grew up in a nice home with lots of siblings and has parents who love him dearly. He made his way to where he is honestly and through hard work. He was a good kid.”

“So I suppose I’m looking at the bad boy, then?” That wasn’t exactly a terrible thing. Draco could feel a smirk spreading on his face.

“Name’s Harry Potter. He was orphaned as a child—“

“Perfect for manipulation.”

“—and he went to live with his aunt and uncle,” she gave him a glare that said not to interrupt. “and they were, well, terrible to him. There were, in fact, a couple of calls to the house regarding his treatment.”

“What happened to the parents?”

“Murdered. First suspected was their best friend and Potter’s godfather— Sirius Black. He was innocent, and the real killers were never found. Then, Black’s appeals finally processed and he left prison and resumed care of his godson when Potter was fourteen. This is where it gets interesting.” As if it wasn’t interesting already?

“Before going to live with Black, Potter’s grades and overall schooling records were abysmal. But, once getting away from the Dursleys, he proved to be quite bright. However, only a year later when Potter was fifteen, Black was killed in a car crash. He then went back to live with the Dursleys who sent him to a boarding school. It was at that boarding school in which he became close friends with the headmaster Albus Dumbledore— he was supposedly a favorite pupil of the headmaster. When Potter left he was top of his class, and he entered law enforcement straight away. Through a well-connected Dumbledore, Potter rose through the ranks at an unprecedented rate, especially once the press got word.

“You may even remember what a field day the press had about five years ago when this all began. Someone leaked the story about Potter’s tragic past and suddenly, coupled with his attractive appearance, he became a heartthrob.”

“Interesting. So, question is, how honest were all of his promotions?” Draco continued to stare at the photo. Potter’s eyes were mesmerizing. This was going to be so much fun.

“Well, it seems he has a fairly good track record, despite the letters in his file.”

Draco looked up at that. “Do tell.”

“He has one account of an inappropriate workplace relationship— I looked into it and he apparently was sleeping with this girl who worked in an entirely different department but they were technically working together at the time— oh, and she’s also Ronald Weasley’s little sister.”

“Scandalous.”

“He also has two accounts of mistreating suspects.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that.”

“I looked into that as well and poster-boy Potter apparently has, on a few occasions, used physical force to get suspects to talk.”

“That’s highly illegal. How’d he get away with it?”

“Well, isn’t that the interesting part? Potter just got a slap on the wrist and moved on.”

Draco glanced back down at the picture. “Let’s get to work on a plan.”

__________

Harry was going to scream. “They’re running circles around us! Two more forced confessionals broadcasted all over the UK and we aren’t anywhere close enough to finding out who this man is.” He couldn’t remember when he last slept or put any sustenance in his body that wasn’t highly caffeinated.

“Okay, let’s try this again. There has to be some significance with his first victim, if we can call them that.”

Harry could recite the case details in his sleep. “Blair Jones. Cosmetic industry Queen dethroned four years ago when she openly revealed that her advertised vegan products were tested on animals. We’ve already been over every single thing about that case and we have nothing. There was no important or significant connection. When asked years ago, she said she had never seen the man before. There’s no significant connection. We’re running in circles!”

“There had to be a reason he started doing these.”

“You’re right. We’re missing something.”

“There’s only one explanation.”

Harry stopped pacing, turning to Ron. “What?”

“Blair Jones wasn’t his first. I mean, think about it. It was pretty well done. Fairly seamless, yeah?”

Ron was right. How had he not seen it before? “You’re right. It was perfect. Foolproof. She wasn’t his first. That’s why we can’t find any specific connection.” Finally, a breakthrough. “We need to look into blackmailings. Do you think he started with big business or a politician?”

“Something tells me politician. If he wanted to make a change, the business owners are much easier to get to. Why would he risk it with a politician?”

“Because he started with a politician. He knows how it works and it would look suspicious if he only ever targeted one politician.”

They spent the next few hours pouring over cases of blackmailed politicians that led to anything. “Here’s one.”

Harry looked up from the file he was reading, tossing it to the side as he listened to Ron. “Antonin Dolohov was blackmailed into revealing a sex scandal. No information on who blackmailed him.”

“Forced to confess himself?”

“Yeah.”

“Put it in the stack. We’ll see if we can find anything earlier.”

“Oh. Never mind. It was post Blair Jones.”

“Damn. Still, we’ll bring it with us. Could have been him.”

A few more hours and their stack contained four files, all from the same year as Blair Jones. They had decided on one more hour before calling it quits for the day.

Harry stifled a yawn as he lifted yet another bland, tan file. Cracking it open, he became slightly more awake when he saw the date. “Ron. This one is from six years ago. A politician’s trail of bribery and government manipulation was exposed by his sixteen year old son, who then supposedly forced him to confess to the crimes. Name’s Lucius Malfoy. Apparently, he had been training his son, Draco, to be a politician as well and Draco didn’t exactly agree with his father’s tactics. Says here that Draco held a press conference in which he exposed his father’s illegal actions. It was then followed by Lucius’ own confession, trial, and subsequent conviction. Attached to the file is a picture of Lucius Malfoy. Unfortunately, no photo of the then minor, Draco, but look.” He handed Ron the file from which the face of a sharp man with long, bleach-blonde hair looked up.

“Blonde, trained in manipulation, from a rich family, six years ago, forced confession.” Ron looked up, smirking. “Care to take a visit to prison?”

He returned the smile. “Let’s.”

__________

Draco’s fingertips were pressed together as he leaned forward at the table. “I say we target Michael Woodward. He seems like he would fight back.”

“We should make it look like I bailed on you,” Hermione said.

“Exactly.”

“In fact...” She trailed off, pulling her computer towards her.

“Are you writing me a confessional?”

“Don’t worry, only parts of it will be true.”

“Talk about my father. It’s public knowledge that was me, anyway.”

“Exactly and you were a minor then, doing the right thing, which is why you suffered no repercussions then and won’t now.”

“If they’re smart they’ll figure out you didn’t really want me turned in and they’ll start to question it.”

“And, because we work so well together, you will have already cornered Potter by then.”

Draco leaned back. “Exactly. I already have Woodward’s confessional written and we know he’ll be at the casino across from his hotel in two nights, gambling away and drinking. I’ll get him up to his room, we force the confession out of him and then once the cameras are off, you turn and stage a fight with me. Then, Woodward suddenly releases himself from the terrible knots I tied while we are distracted and overpowers us and slips away, thinking his confession was already broadcasted. You slip out while he restrains me, leaving my confessional, you broadcast his and put the hotel on lockdown through your hacking whatever. Sounds perfect to me. What do you think?”

Hermione turned to show him his confessional, written about his father and his role in the blackmailing. “I think it’ll get you in Potter’s company quick enough.”

__________

Prison seemed to be doing a number on Lucius Malfoy. His long blonde hair was thinning and his eyes seemed shrunken in. He looked frail. All of the pictures and videos Harry had looked up before this morning showed an entirely different man than the frail form sitting in front of him now.

Lucius looked highly skeptical as Harry and Ron took their seats across from him. “Agents Potter and Weasley, I presume?”

After nodding, Harry decided to get right to it. “Mr. Malfoy, what can you tell us about your son, Draco?”

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “He knows nothing of family loyalty, I can tell you that much.” Harry and Ron said nothing in response, waiting for him to continue. Lucius sighed. “You’re going to have to be more specific about what you want to know.”

“What was his personality like? What were his ambitions? Things like that.”

“Draco was always difficult to read. Of course, my wife and I taught him that for his future political career. However, he was secretive. Trusted no one. Good qualities. As for his ambitions, I can’t say I’m sure. I had thought he wished to be influential but it appears he prefers to do the exact opposite. May I ask what this about?”

Harry and Ron shared a look. “When was your last contact with him?”

“My trial,” Malfoy replied in a flat tone.

Ron paused in his note taking to ask another question. “Mr. Malfoy, have you any reason to believe your son would be inclined to repeat what he did with you on others?”

“Who am I to say? I can tell you he would be clever enough to pull it off. Why? Is he suspected of doing such?”

“Yes, he is,” came Harry’s swift response.

Ron hesitated before asking the next question. “Mr. Malfoy, I know your son was only sixteen when....” He paused, unsure of what to call it.

“You mean when he blackmailed me and had me arrested?”

“As my partner was saying,” Harry cut in. “We know he was only sixteen at the time, but we have to ask if you were aware of any age-inappropriate overtly sexual behavior.” Ron cringed out of the corner of his eye.

Lucius blinked. “Just what has he been up to?”

“Please answer the question.”

Holding Harry’s gaze, Lucius said, “No. Not that I was aware of.”

Harry didn’t back down. “But would you put it past it him to use sex as a manipulative tool?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to use anything as a manipulative tool. Then again, it would be highly hypocritical of him, would it not?”

Ron spoke while looking at his notepad. “Were you aware of any presence in Draco’s life, such as a close friend or significant other, who may have influenced his thinking in any way?”

“We encouraged Draco to have friends from many ideologies and backgrounds; looks good in the press, doesn’t it?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. Lucius Malfoy was not exactly cooperative. “What we would like to know is how he was able to force you to confess. Even with all the allegations, you still would have had a chance in court if you hadn’t. So, why did you?”

There was a long pause in which Lucius’ eyes did not leave Harry’s. “I believe that is information that is between me and my son, Agent Potter. We are done here.” He made a move to stand, but Harry and Ron stayed where they were.

“Do you have any idea where he may be if he were in the country?”

“No.”

“The name Hermione Granger ring any bells?”

“The hacker?”

“Precisely.”

“Other than that, no. Why?” Always looking for angle, this man.

“And what would you say Draco’s weaknesses or vulnerabilities are?”

Lucius’ gaze became distant for a moment before he spoke. “His mother. Unfortunately, she passed last year.”

“Anything else you could think of?”

“No.”

“That will be all then, Mr. Malfoy. Thank you for your time.” Harry and Ron stood swiftly, not receiving a word in reply from Malfoy.

They stepped out of the prison into the mid-morning air. “Well, wasn’t he interesting?”

Ron snorted at that. “Kind of person who doesn’t like to give anything unless they’re benefitting as well. Have to say, I’m not surprised his son turned on him. Seems like a real scum.”

Harry continued talking as they got in the car. “Why do you think Malfoy refused to tell of how his son was able to get him to confess?”

“Maybe it was blackmail. Maybe bad.”

“Most likely. Doesn’t explain the others though.”

Ron turned to glance at Harry as he pulled out of the prison parking lot. “Who do you think they’ll target next?” They had set up a list of highly public elected officials and business owners who may be at risk.

“No idea. Could be any of them. Does seem like they’ll go for a politician next, however.”

“I agree.”

__________

Draco was reclining in his chair at the table, thinking while Hermione worked on whatever. Then, he sat up suddenly. “I’ve had an idea.”

She barely glanced up from her computer. “What?”

“We need more information about Potter’s schooling years.”

“What do you think I’m working on? I’ve found out so far that he was involved in a couple of late-night fights that were quietly covered up by the beloved headmaster.”

“Can you find me one of his fellow students to talk to?”

Leaning forward, Hermione fumbled through piles of paper laid on the table. “Mmmmm, how about this one? Supposedly, a few of Potter’s altercations had been in order to protect other students. He seemed to be beating up the bullies of one Neville Longbottom a lot. I can find an address if you’d like to pay a visit.”

A sinister smile found its way to Draco’s lips. “Please.”

That afternoon, Draco was knocking on the door of Neville Longbottom’s quaint home, nestled outside of the city. Few neighbors, Draco noted. The door was opened by a man about the same age as Draco. He was obviously Neville Longbottom— looked enough like his school picture that Hermione had found— but he had also obviously grown up. Good for him.

Draco started talking before Longbottom could say anything. “Mr. Longbottom, I presume? I am Agent Corner with Interpol, may I come in?” Draco held up a fake Interpol identification with all of Agent Michael Corner’s information and Draco’s picture.

“May I ask what this is about?” Longbottom looked skeptical, yet defiant. Definitely not the shaking little thing his school records reflected.

“Yes, you may, but I highly prefer you ask inside. We have reason to believe you are in danger.” That got him in. Always did.

Once the door was shut behind him, Longbottom continued asking questions. “What’s going on?”

“Well, do you remember Harry Potter?” Draco knew he did. They went for lunch together every other week.

“Of course I do.”

“He’s working on a case right now that puts everyone in his life at risk. We don’t put harming innocents above these two.” He almost smirked at that. Ironic. “Mr. Longbottom, I must ask...Is anyone else home?”

Looking highly concerned now, he answered honestly. “No.”

“Good.” Draco’s demeanor changed as he pulled out his gun, aiming it directly at Longbottom’s head. “Take a seat in the chair, then.”

Longbottom looked confused for a moment. “I don’t understand.”

Draco gave him a flat look. “Are you that thick?”

His expression changed once more to slightly defiant. “I don’t understand what you want from me,” he clarified.

“I need information about Harry Potter. What was he like in school days, particularly, as well his connection with Albus Dumbledore, your former Headmaster.”

Longbottom sat up straighter than before. “I won’t tell you anything. I won’t help you. Harry is—“

“Do you not understand the situation you’re in? Do you not see the gun pointed at you?”

He seemed to almost smirk at that. “I have neighbors. Guns are loud. You don’t want to give yourself away.”

Unfazed, Draco pulled the silencer out of his inner coat pocket and screwed it on before leveling it at Longbottom’s eyes. Expression faltering for only a moment, Longbottom appeared as if he was going to say something more.

“You’re going to tell me what I want to know willingly or not. Not only do I have a gun, I also have some pliers for pulling out teeth, and I do enjoy breaking fingers. Oh, and I almost forgot: I know where Hannah Abbott lives.” Truthfully, he did have pliers but he wasn’t going to pull out someone’s teeth; that was far too much work. However, he found the threat of doing so made people talk faster than one would think. And he didn’t enjoy breaking fingers, but he wasn’t above it. As for Hannah Abbott, he did have her address and he reveled in watching Longbottom squirm as he recited it to him.

“Oh, but she wouldn’t be there right now, would she? Let’s see, it’s Friday afternoon, so she would be picking up her niece soon, wouldn’t she? Would be a shame if anything happened to them. Especially if it were all because you refused to tell me about Harry Potter’s school days. Don’t you think?”

Longbottom looked positively murderous when he ground through his teeth, “Alright. But don’t you _touch_ either of them.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Harry’s a good person. I know he got in trouble a lot, but it’s because he fought back to the bullies.”

“You say this with such conviction, but he turned out to be quite popular himself, didn’t he? In fact, I heard somewhere that he attacked a fellow schoolmate in a bathroom— cut him open and put him in the hospital, in fact.”

By the look on Longbottom’s face, he knew this already. “He deserved it. He was the worst bully of them all. That’s why Harry got popular, in fact. Everyone hated that other boy.”

“So, a bit of vigilante justice was Potter’s style, hm?”

“You could say that. He does what’s right.”

“I would hardly say cutting someone open and facing no repercussions is right.”

“He—“ Longbottom started again, looking angry.

“Oh, I suppose you’re right. He got _detention_. Despite the fact that a sixteen year old boy should know better. He committed assault. Yet, here he is now, a renowned Agent. Don’t you think that’s interesting?”

“What else do you want to know?”

“His relationship with Dumbledore.”

Longbottom shrugged. “Dumbledore always had favorites. For a few years, that was Harry.”

“Any reason you could think of why that would be?”

“Well, some of Dumbledore’s favorites before him were Harry’s parents.”

“Yes, well, he also seemed to be fairly close with your parents as well, yet he never intervened when you found yourself bullied, did he?” Ah, Draco could tell he struck a chord there. It was true, and Longbottom knew it.

“I suppose he felt somewhat responsible for their deaths. You seem to know more than you ought. You probably know Dumbledore sent them there knowing they were in danger and thinking they were safe there. And he was wrong.”

Weak. Time to move on. “What was Potter’s contact with Dumbledore like after he graduated?”

“How should I know?”

“You two are close.”

Longbottom gave a glance around, obviously not wanting to answer. “What does it matter?”

“Dumbledore seemed to have contacts everywhere. Did you ever, even for a moment, suspect that part of the reason Potter was promoted so quickly was the result of any of these connections?”

With a sharp glare, Longbottom met his eyes. “No,” he said violently.

Draco pointed his gun down. “Now, do be honest with me, or I will shoot your toes. It’s terrible to try and walk like that, did you know?”

Silence. Draco cocked the gun, stopping just barely from pulling the trigger when Longbottom spoke.

“Okay, fine. Maybe I suspected a little, but not enough to think anything of it.”

“Did you know Potter has three letters in his file? Two of them for beating suspects, which is illegal. How do you propose he got out of those without any repercussions? Once more, just like his dealing with bullies at school.”

Longbottom’s gaze became uncertain. He hadn’t known and wasn’t so sure anymore about precious Potter.

“Or, would you say, as you had before that what Potter did was right? Maybe you would change your mind if I told you one of those suspects wasn’t even convicted. Potter had gotten it wrong and had beat an innocent person for information they did not have, all because he was provoked.”

He paused to let Longbottom think it over. He would crack, he knew he would.

“Alright, fine. I do know that Kingsley Shacklebolt— Potter’s superior— was always really close to Dumbledore but that’s all I’ll say. I won’t even go so far as to insinuate that he had anything to do with it. I just—“

“There’s no need to explain yourself. Thank you for your time; I’ll be on my way now.” Draco unscrewed the silencer, slipping both it and the gun back inside his inner jacket pocket. He started towards the door before turning back a moment. “Oh, and, before you go running to the phone to ring him up, my partner has disabled all forms of communication out of your house. And,” as he spoke, Draco picked up what he knew were Longbottom’s car keys off their hook right by the front door. “I’ll be taking these.”

Stepping out into the mid-afternoon, Draco pulled out his phone to get in touch with Hermione. She reminded him to be quick on getting back— tonight was the night they would go after Woodward. However, Draco had one more stop to make before then.

It wasn’t too long of a drive from Longbottom’s to his next destination. It would be getting back in time to get changed for the casino that would make them short on time. The building was cold and grey from the outside, more likely even colder on the inside. Draco wasn’t sure if he would be able to have much time between checking in and Potter being tipped off by someone. Luckily, he wouldn’t be locked in or anything preposterous; Hermione was standing by ready to hack them at a moment’s notice. Pushing back a single wayward strand of hair, Draco stood, exiting the car and making his way inside.

After checking in, he was brought into the room where he was greeted by the sight of his reason for visiting.

Prison was not helping his father any.

His movements controlled and his face revealing nothing, he made his way to sit down at the table provided. “Father.”

“Draco.”

“It’s been a long six years.”

“Yes, it has.” There was a tense pause.

Draco mentally checked his posture out of habit before continuing. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

“To be one step ahead of the Agents that were here yesterday, I would suppose.” So they had already come. Good. Just as Draco had thought. He was worried they wouldn’t have figured out who he was in time.

“Precisely. What did they want to know?”

“About your ambitions when you were younger. Particularly, they inquired about your influences. They also asked about your sexual activity as a teenager. Care to explain?”

“No. What did you tell them?”

“Nothing useful as I, unlike you, know about family loyalty.”

For once, Draco allowed himself to smile in his father’s presence. “I knew you wouldn’t. In exchange, when you get out in two years, I won’t bother you, as we both know I have enough information to put you right back in here.” With a swift movement, Draco stood. “I suppose this is the last, father.”

“I suppose it is.” And, that was all the goodbye either needed. With that done, Draco left the prison quickly. He couldn’t give Potter time to catch up to him, and he had to get back. Their big plans were going into affect tonight.

__________

Someone Harry didn’t recognize burst into the room. He and Ron looked up from the papers they were pouring over.

“Draco Malfoy was spotted visiting the prison his father’s at.”

That had both him and Ron on their feet in a moment. “Set up roadblocks between there and the city. If we work fast enough, we should be able to intercept him on his way back.”

The two partners began to gather what they needed when Harry’s cell rang. Checking it quickly, he saw that it was an unknown number. He ignored it, shoving it back in his pocket. They weren’t even out the door when it rang once more. Again, same number. He supposed he would just answer it and tell whoever it was that now was not a good time.

He flipped the phone open. “Look, I don’t know who you are but, now is not—“

“The criminal you’re after just held me in my own home under threat of torture.” It was Neville.

“Neville, what the fuck do you mean?” Harry stopped in his tracks. At the mention of Neville’s name, Ron had turned.

“I mean, some tall blond bloke knocked on my door pretending to be one of your coworkers and then pulled a gun on me to ask questions about you.”

“Neville, hold on.” Harry covered the phone with his hand and looked toward an expectant Ron. “Malfoy was just at Neville’s.”

“But he was just at the prison.”

Back to the phone. “Neville, how long ago was this?”

“Fifteen minutes, maybe, at the most? I had to wait until he was gone and then walk to my neighbors. My phone won’t work.”

Harry quickly relayed this information to Ron, who pulled out his radio. “We need to know if that call about Malfoy at the prison was when he got there or when he left.”

It was a ten minute drive between Neville’s home and the prison. If he had been to the prison first and the call had come when he left, then he could be halfway back to the city by now. If the opposite were true, he could still be at the prison.

Ron was still arguing with someone on the radio. Malfoy would have taken two different routes back to the city depending on where he had left from. They needed to know which he had gotten to first so they would know which route to block off. They didn’t have enough resources for both.

The arguing on the radio stopped. “They say the call was made in the middle of his very hasty visit with his father.”

“Damn it!” Harry cursed, doing everything he could to not throw the phone in his hand. There was no way of telling for sure. They had a 50/50 chance. “Ron, you head to the prison. I’ll go to Neville. Tell them to set up the roadblock on the way back from Neville’s. We’re just going to have to take the chance on this one.”

Harry was a few miles from Neville’s when he heard the news. By now, Draco hadn’t been found at the roadblock which meant he either left from the prison in the first place, or spotted their roadblock and took a different route. He was long gone by now. Cursing, he decided to continue driving. He still had to find out what Draco wanted from Neville.

He arrived at Neville’s house a few minutes later, pissed off and feeling dejected. Once Neville let him in, he ranted about the case for nearly half an hour before finally getting down to it and asking what Draco had wanted.

“He wanted to know about what you were like at school. The ways you broke the rules and didn’t face any repercussions. But, if you ask me, he seemed to know a lot already. I don’t see why he needed me to tell him anything.” Neville didn’t mention the part where he may have ratted out information about Harry’s career.

“He probably just showed up here so we wouldn’t catch him on his way back from the prison.” Harry paused, considering. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No. All he did was threaten.”

“Well, that’s good. He is capable, just so you know. If he comes back, do what you did at this point. However, I highly doubt he will come back, so I’m not going to put you into any sort of protective custody.”

“Harry, he threatened Hannah and Isabelle.”

Shit. “I’ll make some calls.”

“Thank you.”

Harry was just pulling out his phone when it rang. He answered and the conversation was short. “Neville, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. We’ve found them.”

Shit, Harry thought as he got in his car. It all made sense. He had gone out to Neville’s and the prison to lure them out this far from the city. Give them time. _Shit_ , they were smart. But, Harry was going to get them sooner or later.

__________

Expensive casinos with expensive suits and top-dollar champagne really put Draco in his element. As soon as he had slipped the black, double-button Burberry jacket on, he could give a sigh of relief. He was home. One day when Draco tired of all this vigilante work, he would find a rich man who made his money honestly— hard enough work in itself— and be a perfect trophy-husband. But, that would have to wait.

He spotted Woodward soon enough, striking up a commotion at the roulette table. Apparently, he had just won a round. Draco slid into the crowd, watching for the next two rounds before stepping up and placing his own bet. He saw eyes go wide at the stacks.

Naturally, he lost. No matter. It was money he had stolen from his father anyway. He made sure he was standing next to Woodward when it happened, though.

“It’s a shame,” Woodward said. “But maybe you shouldn’t place such high bets. Wouldn’t lose so big.”

“Losing is nothing and if you bet small, you can only win small.” Woodward seemed to like the sound of that. “Besides, I’ll make it up at something else.”

“Oh, you’re so sure?” Draco gave Woodward a look that would for sure pique his interest.

“Care to join me?”

He didn’t seem to even need time to consider it. “Why not?”

Draco led them to the blackjack table. It was risky, so Draco would have to be subtle, but he would play off the first round as beginners luck so he wouldn’t be kicked out of the casino.

The first round went quite smoothly. Learning to count cards wasn’t difficult, but it hadn’t proved much useful in the year since he had learned it. This, however, was payment enough if it brought him to Potter.

He won with a look of bashful shock, ever the actor. Woodward seemed impressed and wanted to watch and see if he could do it again.

“No, no, no. I shouldn’t press my luck.” Looking flustered and much younger than he really was, Draco stood and tried, but purposefully failed, to get Woodward to pull him away.

Appearing nervous, he sat down for the second round. Every time he hit, he would jitter in his seat to make himself look so unsure and naïve. When it came time to end the game, Draco looked nervous as ever, scrunching up his eyes when the house turned over the last card. He heard the eruption around him and Woodward, who had been holding his hand, told him to open his eyes.

“You won, Damien, you won!”

Draco opened his eyes, his free hand flying to his mouth in well done mock shock. “Oh! Oh, I can’t believe it, I— I can’t believe it! I won!” In all the celebrating confusion, Draco made sure to subtly turn Woodward’s watch ahead fifteen minutes.

A minute later, they were walking away from the blackjack table. “I really do mean it. I don’t want to press my luck tonight. Why don’t we cash out?”

“I want to see how far my luck will take me tonight.”

“No,” Draco laughed, still holding onto Woodward’s hand and looking bashful. “I told you, I want to cash out.”

“Never said I didn’t want to.”

Draco straightened up at that, smiling and blushing lightly. “Okay,” he said softly, acting a tad tipsy and like he may have been suppressing a giggle.

They were towards the front of the lobby after cashing out their winnings. Things were quieter up here.

“So,” Woodward began. “My hotel‘s right across the street. Fancy a nightcap?” Draco glanced around, acting unsure. Woodward leaned forward. “Oh, come on.”

Blushing, Draco looked up to meet his eyes. “Oh, what the hell? Why not?”

When the door to the room opened, Draco was still giggling in Woodward’s arms. Hermione stepped in from off the side, gun raised, and Draco felt Woodward freeze behind him, yet Draco still acted light and happy.

Hermione gave him a scathing look. “Are you quite done, yet?”

“Oh, calm down, Granger, I’m only having a bit of fun.”

“This isn’t about fun.” If Draco hadn’t known this was all staged, he would be fairly scared of her at this point.

“Alright, alright.” He took a step away from Woodward, pulling out his own gun as he turned. Nodding with his head, he said, “Get in the chair, love. We won’t hurt you.” He made sure to remain all smiles and flirty— no harsh change in demeanor like usual. Their fight had to be believable.

Just as they had with Claude LeClair, Hermione explained the situation and handed Woodward his confession. While Woodward spoke, Draco had his gun not entirely lifted high enough, acting inexperienced and easily overpowerable. Slightly tipsy, flirty. Fun. Easy.

The second the camera clicked off, Hermione turned on him. “Get your head back in it, Malfoy. We’ve got a job to do here and we have to get as far as possible before the police show up.” Draco rolled his eyes as she spoke.

As she packed up her tech gear, specifically leaving her laptop out and open, Draco kept his gun trained on Woodward, his eyes roaming up and down his body easily. He actually was attractive, so it wasn’t that difficult to fake. Not like others. Draco struggled not to shutter at the remembered taste of LeClair.

Hermione tossed him the rope. “Get moving, Malfoy.”

“Alright, alright. No need to yell at me.” He set the unloaded gun down on the table just out of reach of Woodward, but close enough to be tempting. Then, he took the rope and set about restraining him. As he knelt behind the chair to “secure” the knots, he spoke into Woodward’s ear. “It’s a shame. I’d much rather you be tying me to the bed than me tying you to this chair. But, unfortunately....” He trailed off. Hermione was glaring at him.

“Time for flirting is over, Malfoy.”

He stood, done with the restraints. “Why do you always have to be such a buzzkill? Can’t I have a little fun with my job?”

Then, they really started to have a row. In the distraction, as expected, Woodward freed himself and lunged for Draco’s unloaded gun, standing and pressing it to Draco’s temple, effectively ending the conversation. “I’ll shoot him. I will.”

“Okay. Alright.” Hermione set her gun down slowly.

“Okay, now you’re going to take that video down.” Well, there was a bonus for them. Apparently, Woodward didn’t know what livestream meant. Perfect. Now they didn’t have to invent an excuse for Hermione to reach for her computer.

“Okay. Okay, I will. Just don’t hurt him.” In a few keystrokes, all the lights went out. In the confusion of the darkness, Draco kicked Woodward to distract him as Hermione slipped out. Then, using the electrical locking mechanisms of the hotel locks, Hermione was able to lock the entire hotel in. Draco knew that, working quickly, she would be able to unlock the doors that she needed, as she needed them, and escape, leaving them in the hotel room for the police to find. The lights flickered back on, leaving Draco with Woodward, who wasn’t exactly happy at the betrayal.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw the paper that Granger had left. Feigning as if he didn’t know anything about it, he leaned forward. “What’s that?”

Woodward, ever stupid, turned, facing his back to Draco’s gun. He barked out a laugh when he read it. “It’s your confession. Looks like your partner turned on you.”

Draco took the paper from Woodward and sat down on the edge of the bed looking sad, distraught, and overall young. The gun hung loosely from his fingers. “She brought me in this a few weeks ago. She only did it to use me, didn’t she?” He looked up, tears welling in his eyes. “She just wanted me to lure you up here.” Sobbing now, Draco buried his face in his hands, getting the paper wet and dangling the gun by just a finger.

Woodward, still stupid, fell for it in a heartbeat. “Hey, hey. It’s alright.”

Draco hiccuped as he met Woodward’s eyes. “She probably thinks I’m so stupid. Managed to lock me in here with my own demons to wait for the police. How could she?” In Draco’s fake moment of weakness, Woodward snuck Draco’s gun from his hand. Draco pretended to be too distraught to notice, flinging himself onto Woodward and burying his crying face in his neck.

After a minute he sat up, wiping his nose. “Don’t bother. She didn’t even load it. I should have known! That just shows that she never trusted me!” Crying anew now, Draco put his head back down again.

The police arrived faster than Draco would have thought. He couldn’t believe he had spent fifteen minutes crying so heavily. It was very draining. The local police put them both in cuffs and then in their squad cars, driving Woodward in a different direction. Draco wiped his eyes, back to his dignified self now.

It didn’t take them too long to get back to the police building where they shut him in an interrogation room and began asking him questions.

Draco remained defiantly silent, only responding to their questions by saying, “I’ll only talk to Potter.”

And sure enough, his plea was granted.

Draco made himself swear to never forget that moment that Potter first stepped into the room. The first time he ever saw Harry Potter in person. He hadn’t even looked at Draco yet, and he could feel the tingling in his spine, the tension in the room. Hours of sitting in this hard chair had caused Draco to start to slouch a little— that was his version of “breaking.” But, he sat up straight the moment Potter opened the door.

It seemed like it happened in slow motion— they had been building up to this for weeks, chasing each other in circles. And they were here. It was like the anticipation of smelling a good meal as it cooked and now having it set in front of you, perfectly appealing. And, Potter was perfectly appealing. The door clicked behind him, leaving them alone in the interrogation room. Draco could feel the air in the room change. It was electric, just from their mutual presence.

Potter took a couple steps into the room and Draco had to school his features, making sure that he didn’t look too excited. In the short moments before Potter reached the table, Draco wondered what his interrogation style would be like. Would he be stoic and try to get Draco to talk himself into a corner? Would he take the approach of convincing Draco that Hermione betrayed him, so he should betray her back? The whole “help me and I can help you” routine?

There was no question when Potter’s eyes met his. Draco knew exactly the word to describe his style: intense.

They didn’t break eye contact as Potter pulled out his chair and sat down. Draco could feel every part of his body reacting to Potter. He wasn’t even going to have to fake any of this. Actually, fuck the plan of treating Potter like every other target. Draco had a different plan. It was riskier, sure. But, as he said to Woodward— if you bet small you can only win small.

“I see that you’ve refused to speak to anyone but me.” Draco almost moaned when he heard Potter speak. His voice was so deep and smooth. Fuck. “Why is that?”

Time to turn on the charm. Potter would soon see this was Draco’s show, not his. He leaned forward, speaking slightly above a whisper. “I find you intriguing.”

Potter was quick on the bounce back. “How so?”

Leaning back now, feigning nonchalance. “Well, your history for one thing. Aren’t you awfully young to be in this position?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to the crimes you’ve committed.” Draco smiled. A no-nonsense man, this Potter seemed to be. “Let’s start with your father, shall we? After that, we can move on to the other twenty or so others you’re suspected of threatening, blackmailing, etcetera.”

“I don’t think that’s quite necessary, Potter. You don’t need to tell me all about the person I have been.”

“That’s Agent Potter, to you.”

Draco sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, putting a seductive tilt to his voice. “Yes, Agent Potter.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. I’ve been following you for the last couple of weeks, and I’ve been looking over your past files. I think when we come out on the other end of this, you’re looking at a sentence so long, you’re probably die in prison.”

“Well then, time to tally up the points and settle the score then, is it Potter?” He paused, tactfully glancing to the side and blushing a tad, faking flustered. “Sorry. Agent Potter.” Draco kept a small smile on his face, one that said ‘I look shy but we both know I’m deadly.’

Harry raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “As I see it, you’ve lost. Granger turned on you. Give up.”

“We’re not giving up, or giving in.”

Harry held Draco’s gaze, challenging him silently.

“Don’t you want to know why, Potter? Or, maybe, you would like to exactly how it all came to be that you are the one who is going to lose.”

There was something shining in Potter’s eyes. “Alright, fine. Go ahead and explain your plan to me, then.”

“Tell me, Potter, what exactly were you thinking when you saw all these confessions that I have forced? And don’t try and call me out for vigilante justice. It’s not exactly something you’re a stranger to yourself, is it?”

He seemed like he was about to laugh. “Oh, so that’s what this is about? Your great “upper hand” is how I treated bullies when I was sixteen?”

Draco smirked. If only. “You know as well as I do that Granger has impeccable hacking skills. She can find things redacted, removed from anyone’s files. For example, something like an Agent who committed assault so badly it could have been considered attempted murder when he was sixteen, justified because ‘no one liked’ the boy he hurt. I must say, in reading the report file, it seemed you weren’t even all that provoked that night. You just found him in a corner and kicked him when he was down, didn’t you?” Potter’s face was now hard and revealing nothing. “And, isn’t it interesting that those patterns of behavior haven’t just vanished? It seems, Potter, that you continue to think you’re above the law. A man who can take—“

Potter stood up so fast that he knocked over his chair. The clatter was so loud that it cut Draco off. It was perfect, wasn’t it? Potter lunged forward, across the table, fisting his hand into the front of Draco’s nice, crisp shirt. He got right in Draco’s smirking face.

“You know nothing about that.” His voice was low. Quiet enough that those watching from the other side of the two-say glass wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Draco made sure to speak at a normal volume. “Really? Because the one wasn’t even—“

“ _You know nothing about that_ ,” Harry growled.

“My, my _Agent_ Potter. I thought I was the one supposed to be doing the seducing.” Harry released him, remembering himself. This was going well, Draco thought, as he watched Potter begin to pace in front of him, trying to calm himself.

“You know,” Draco began. “You act like you’re so much better than Granger and I. But, really, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to being in our position, would you?”

Potter whirled on him. “Don’t even start that. Take a look around. We are here because of what _you_ have done. Look at what you’ve done, Malfoy. And face it.”

Draco raised his voice, if only slightly. “No, look at what _you_ have done. We are not here because of me. It is your precious legal system that has proved inadequate—“

“You are the one breaking the law! Fuck everyone else! You have broken the law, Draco Malfoy, and now you have to pay the price.”

Voice back to its calm volume, tone still scathing, Draco retorted, “Why? Why must I face the consequences of the law when others don’t? When a man can _put a classmate in the hospital_ and have it swept under the rug so that he can go on to _torture_ an innocent and have it all evaporate because his boss is old pals with his school headmaster.” By the time Draco was finished, Potter had stopped pacing altogether. “Right now, I hope this makes you nervous, Potter.”

After a pause in which Draco listened to Potter breathe heavy unsure of what to do, he decided to continue. It was going fairly well so far. “You—“

“Stop.” Potter looked up, meeting his eyes with the same intensity as before. “Stop talking.”

“After everything we’ve started, you’re going to keep begging me for more.”

Once more, Potter lost control, grabbing Draco by the front of the shirt. He pulled so that their faces would meet, which caused the table to scoot across the floor. Draco could feel his breaths against his face. Potter looked downright murderous. But he didn’t say anything.

Draco spoke quietly so that no one else would hear them. “I have an offer for you, Potter. Come with us. Join us.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Granger abandoned you. You—“

“No, she didn’t.” The brief look that flashed across Potter’s face was priceless. “Potter, I hope you know you’re what made us this time. We’ll be the greatest this time. I hope that when this is all over, you’ll remember just how well we pulled this off. That is, if you don’t take me up on my offer.”

“To come with you?”

“Think about it. All those who think they’re above the law. Who think they’re somehow better than us. Not the ones who made mistakes. The ones who have deliberately fucked over governments and entire populations. The ones you can’t touch where are you are now. We can get them, Potter. You, me, and Granger.”

He seemed to look like he was considering it for a moment. Then, abruptly, he dropped Draco back down into his seat. So close. Nevertheless, he was thinking about it.

And, perfect timing as well. Draco glanced at the watch that was on Potter’s wrist. 1:58. He had two minutes. “Potter, if you think this is over with, then we will prove you wrong.”

“Malfoy, you are not getting out of this one.” He didn’t look so sure though.

Draco made sure the last thing Potter saw before the lights went out was his dazzling smile.

Chaos broke out in a split second. Draco had roughly two minutes before the generators would kick in. All the locks were automatic and because the police station was so high security, Hermione was only sure in her ability to cut the power. She said she should be able to manipulate the locks, but not to count on it. So, Draco was up the second the lights dropped.

Potter’s shoulder was in his chest before he could get out of the way. No matter, Draco was faster than he looked. And, of course, the perfect tactic to stun someone momentarily when you had no weapon and they physically overpowered you, was to kiss them.

Sure, it was dark, but it only took Draco a second. Then, he was able to slip just far enough ahead of Potter’s grasp to fling open the door and run down the hallway.

He ran down the hallways faster than he thought he could run. He must have had less than a minute left, maybe thirty seconds. Relying on the hasty memorization he had made when he came in of where he was, as well as the layout he had memorized earlier, Draco found himself bursting through the doors seconds before the lights flicked back on, Potter directly behind him.

Hermione had the car parked right there. He just had to reach it before Potter reached him. It was close, it was going to be so close. She threw open the door and Draco took leaps to make it in time. He was half a step from the car when Potter’s hand caught on to the fabric of his jacket sleeve.

Turning deftly, Draco twirled out of the jacket while still spinning towards the car, collapsing in the passenger seat awkwardly. He almost missed the door. Potter had stumbled back when Draco had slipped out of the jacket and Hermione pulled away just as his hand came within inches of getting Draco again. The door snapped closed as the car tore off.

Just to be a bitch about it, Draco stuck his hand out the window and waved without looking back.

__________

Harry stood with his hands braced on his knees, panting. How the _fuck_ did they pull that off? He was so close, dammit! They got away again?

Straightening up, he stared off in the direction they had left. He was going to find them. He didn’t care what it took.

Someone approached him from behind, tapping him on the shoulder. “What?” Harry almost yelled as he turned.

The young woman held up an evidence bag. Malfoy’s. “Sir, the phone we confiscated from Malfoy when we brought him in is ringing. We suspect it’s for you.”

Still breathing hard, Harry said, “Yeah, that’s probably a good suspicion.” He took the phone out the bag, snapping it open.

Draco Malfoy’s posh voice rang out from the other end, perfectly calm. It made Harry’s face twitch. “I told you we would prove you wrong.”

“Malfoy, I will find you and I will take you down.” His voice was gravely, murderous. “I promise this is personal.”

To Harry’s dismay, Malfoy didn’t seem put off by this at all. “Think about my offer, yeah?” And the call ended. Harry tried calling it back. Nothing.

Naturally, he had them try and trace the phone, but it was burner. Malfoy had probably thrown it out the window, anyway. Harry knew he should have put it back in the evidence bag, but for some reason he kept it in his pocket.

Regardless, it was two in the morning. He had been chasing Malfoy around all damn day and he needed to fucking sleep. Harry made a hasty exist, promising he would be in at nine.

Part of him was waiting for something when he stepped into his flat. They knew so much about him, there was no doubt they would have been able to show up inside his home. He was almost expecting them to.

It bothered him that they knew so much. They really didn’t have any idea about those times. The first person he beat was a man who had serially raped children. And he was sitting across from Harry, fully admitting it, smirking, laughing, and Harry just couldn’t do it. He had hit him. Anyone would have, which is exactly why Kingsley had let it slide.

The second one. That was far worse for Harry, personally. The “innocent” wasn’t so innocent. His parents had been murdered by a gang— his godfather too. Yes, of course, it was the car accident, but it had been deliberate. And the woman he had beat so bad they had to pull him off of her was Bellatrix Lestrange. The right hand man to the man who had murdered Harry’s parents and godfather.

Harry had been removed from active duty for months, going through endless therapy and anger management. Even his therapist had said he didn’t need the anger management, but he still had to go because it was mandated by Kingsley. And, here he was, proving that maybe he had needed those anger management courses after all. He had almost hit Malfoy.

He couldn’t exactly be blamed though, could he, Harry thought as he kicked off his clothes and made his way to bed. He just got under his skin in the worst way. Harry had thought he would have been able to handle himself, but he was proved wrong tonight. It was just everything about him. From the way he dressed to the way he looked, the way he carried himself and the tilt of his voice. And, fuck, the way he kept throwing in all of those fake-sexy—

Harry took a deep breath. He knew it was all faked and forced, but fuck if he didn’t understand how all those other men and women had fallen prey to it. It was fucking sexy. He knew just how to blush and make his voice sound hesitant that all Harry had wanted to was bend him over the interrogation table and fuck him raw right there with anyone able to see.

Another deep breath. Harry stopped himself when he noticed his hand starting to slip down a little too far. No. He was not going to wank to Draco Malfoy.

But, fuck, the sexual tension they had? It couldn’t have been _that_ forced. The way Draco had looked when Harry’s face was inches from him. Something in Draco’s face had changed just before he made that seducing comment. He had meant it.

Fuck. He tried to tell himself to take deep breaths and think of non-sexy things but his dick had other ideas. Draco Malfoy was a piece of work. And there was no denying there was something between them. Something unique.

Harry couldn’t help himself. His hand slipped down, tugging fast as he imagined the rich, hypocritical sexy motherfucker on his knees, mouth doing something other than talking back for once. He came with name Draco on his lips, and he was unable to feel guilty about it.

__________

“You _what_?”

Hermione was furious with him. He hadn’t gotten Potter to reveal himself and his wrongs as they had planned. But, he was sure his new plan would work.

“Draco, why the fuck would you think that was a good idea? We had him! We risked so much for that! You almost didn’t get out, did you? And you were prepared to take that risk, were you? He’s not going to—“

“He will.” Looking up, Draco met her eyes from where he was on the sofa. “He will. I could see it in his eyes. He’s very intrigued. He doesn’t want to be, but he will be on our side within the week. Trust me on this, Hermione.”

“Oh, really, you think he’s going to turn on his partner and best friend, Ronald Weasley who’s family basically adopted him? Just going to leave him in the dust?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Don’t worry about—“ Hermione sputtered, unable to believe her ears. Then, she spun, pointing at him accusingly. “You are thinking with your dick. You think he’s hot and you want to fuck him and so you’ve got these notions in your head that Mr. Golden Boy Harry Potter is going to—“

“Hermione. Trust me. He’s going to find us and he’s going to join us. Trust me on this.”

__________

The day passed uneventfully. Harry dragged himself out of bed in the morning, groaning at the lack of sleep. The office was pretty hushed and feeling low in the morning. They had, after all, been hacked the previous night. Tends to lower morale.

Of course, Harry knew he would have to make a call to Kingsley at HQ in France at some point that day. But, for the morning, he was just still too asleep to do so.

Ron had asked him all kinds of questions about what had happened with Malfoy. Harry made sure to leave out the part about Malfoy wanting Harry to switch to their side. Definitely left it out because he would have to assure Ron he wasn’t really considering it, despite the truth which was that he kept coming back to the idea. Malfoy was right, that was what he had started off with when he was younger. Reporting the git had never made any difference. He was too rich and well connected. Harry couldn’t do anything to stop him beating up kids like Neville unless he stopped it himself. And he did. And it had felt so good and right.

No. Harry needed to wipe those thoughts from his mind. Draco was manipulating him. Dammit— _Malfoy_ was manipulating him. Calling him by his first name— even in his head— was a bad idea. He wasn’t really considering the offer.

He wasn’t, right?

When he left the office that evening, he actually wasn’t so sure.

So he decided to go on a walk to clear his head. These were crazy thoughts and he needed to get rid of them. It would be insane to go and help them.

He was standing in a park when his phone rang. Patting his pocket, Harry found it and pulled it out. Nothing. The ringing was coming from—

The other phone.

Where had he put it? It wasn’t in his back pocket or his front pocket or— there. Jacket pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it open, waiting for Draco’s voice.

“So, you’ve been giving my offer thought, I presume?”

“And why would you say that?”

“Because I know you better than you had expected. Admit it, you know there’s something here.” He wasn’t even making his voice all sexy, just talking normally. Yet, Harry still felt like he was going to melt. Fuck, he knew wanking to thoughts of him was a terrible idea.

“Pretty ballsy, calling me like this? How do you know I’m not tracing this call?”

“Well, first of all, if you were you probably wouldn’t say that. Second, you’re not even in the office.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I’m at your two o’clock.” Harry glanced to his right and, sure enough, past the throngs of people there stood Malfoy. He gave Harry a teasing little wave and a smirk, but he didn’t come any closer.

“You really don’t mind taking risks, do you? I’d say this is even more risky than last night. We’re in a park. Granger can’t exactly hack you out of this one, can she?”

“Granger doesn’t know I’m here.”

He fixed Draco with an even look. “You really expect me to believe that?”

He saw Draco shrug. “She doesn’t. I went against our plan last night. She’s angry with me. Told me I’m thinking with my dick and that I’m taking too many risks because I want to fuck you. But, oh well. She’ll get over it.”

Harry’s mind fumbled for a moment, at a loss. Did Draco— _Malfoy_ — just openly admit that he wanted to fuck Harry? Laughing from the other end brought him out of his mind.

“I see by the look on your face I’m not the only one taking stupid risks. So, why are you out here, walking through the park on a Saturday evening? Aren’t you usually at the pub with Weasley?”

Shit, Ron. “You stay away from Ron.”

Draco smirked a little bit, biting his lip. He turned and began to walk in a large circle around where Harry was. “Who said we’re going to go after him? You do sound very protective, though. It’s hot.”

“Again, don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. We’ve talked to those who you’ve forced to confess to crimes before. Lots of them have mentioned your use of sexual manipulation. You’re not going to manipulate me.”

Draco stopped on a dime, turning to face Harry. “No?” The smirk said it all. “Then why are you still talking to me?” He resumed walking. “After all, I am a wanted criminal. Why haven’t you come over here and arrested me? Is it because seeing me in handcuffs would just be too much for you to take?”

Harry could hear Draco’s laugh as his brain short-circuited. Yes, that probably would be too much for him to take. And, shit, now he was picturing it. Mouthy Malfoy with his hands cuffed behind his back, looking a little roughed up, finally showing a bit of submission and—

“Picturing it, are you?”

Shit, Harry thought.

“I do look great in handcuffs, in case you were wondering. But, don’t take my word for it. Come and see for yourself.” With that, the call ended and Draco turned his back, walking under a footbridge and leaving Harry where he was.

What the fuck was he doing? Draco was right. Why hadn’t he arrested him? Shit, he was really fucking with Harry’s head, wasn’t he.

He took off after Draco, unsure of where he went. After coming out on the other side of the footbridge, he gave a quick glance around. There. He could see Malfoy’s blonde hair through the crowd as he slipped into a pub.

Internally, Harry was yelling at himself as he jogged in the same direction. Questions of, what the fuck are you doing, you stupid fucking idiot, were met with a defiant reply that he was just going to go in there and arrest Draco and end this.

But, of course he knew that was a lie.

Walking in to the pub, he didn’t see Draco and he hadn’t expected to. No, he knew where Draco would be waiting.

He stepped through the door into the toilets and didn’t see him immediately, his mind wondering if this was a trap. Then, the door closed behind him and Harry turned in time to see Draco swiftly lock it.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“I suppose most aren’t and that’s why you’re so good at your job.”

Draco smirked taking a step forward and crowding into Harry’s personal space. His voice was once more that silky whisper when he spoke, his eyes fixed on Harry’s lips. “This isn’t about a job.”

That was all the prompting Harry needed.

He reached forward and grabbed Draco by the back of the neck, bringing him forward in a possessive kiss. Draco felt his knees go weak at Harry’s touch and, despite himself, he moaned.

Harry’s thoughts were running wild. What the fuck was he doing? Malfoy just drove him wild. And he wasn’t going to be gentle about it.

He slammed Malfoy against the back of the door, deepening their kiss. The moan Draco gave in response to being handled like that had Harry half-hard in an instant. This was insane.

Slender fingers were deftly pulling and undoing Harry’s belt as Harry moved his hand a bit higher from the back of Draco’s neck into his hair, breaking their kiss to give a nice tug. Eyes half-lidded, Draco looked like he was in pure heaven. Ultimately, Harry decided that if he wasn’t actually enjoying this, then he was the world’s greatest actor.

No sooner than Harry’s belt was undone was Malfoy kneeling in front of him, Harry’s fingers still twisted in his hair. Things seemed to slow down for a moment as Draco looked up at him, eyes wide and strangely open as he reached into Harry’s pants and pulled out his cock.

Then, Draco blinked up at him and it was back to the seductive man he was used to. “May I suck your cock, _Agent_ Potter?”

In response, Harry took himself in his other hand and pressed the tip to Malfoy’s lips. They both kept eye contact as Harry’s length disappeared into Malfoy’s throat until Draco closed his eyes and began sucking. Harry almost cried out at one point when Draco pulled back and tongued at his slit.

The man really did know how to work his tongue in more ways than one.

And, fuck the moans. They were driving Harry insane. He gave up on tugging on Draco’s hair— which the latter seemed rather upset about— deciding instead to use both hands to brace himself on the wall behind Draco. He needed some sort of support while Draco knelt before him, sucking and moaning and making Harry’s knees weak.

After a few more minutes like that, Draco pulled off all the way, resting the back of his head on the wall behind him and looking up at Harry, panting. “Please,” His voice sounded desperate and wanting. It was so fucking hot. “Please, Harry, please fuck me.”

It was hearing his name that did it. His first name rolling off that silver tongue that had Harry dragging Draco up by the hair, swallowing his moans and whimpers in a kiss. When he broke it off, he saw Draco looking at him in a way that was needy and desperate and begging. Not releasing his grip on Draco’s hair, he flipped him over and pushed him against the door. Draco’s hands worked fast to get his own trousers and pants down and Harry reached around, holding his fingers in front of Draco’s mouth.

Taking the cue, Draco closed his lips around them and sucked. Harry pulled his fingers out, reaching down to where Malfoy’s hips were thrust back toward Harry. He slipped a finger down to Draco’s arse and found it slipped in so wet and easy.

Harry found himself laughing a tad, which got him a nice, whiny moan from Draco in response. “You’re all prepared. You wanted this to happen, didn’t you? That’s why you tracked me down and called me. You wanted me to fuck you.” He tightened his grip in Draco’s hair, causing him to whimper. “Admit it.”

“Yes, okay, I—“ His words cut off in a long moan as Harry pushed a second finger in without any warning. Gasping, Draco continued. “I want you. You’re— fuck— you’re so attractive and intense and domineering and I want you to fuck me, please—“

“What was that?”

Draco gasped again, pressing his forehead to the door. “That domineering bit.”

“Yes, fuck. The way you would grab when you got angry and you would just look at me like I was naked in front of you already and you were just going to throw me down and take me— fuck!” Draco exclaimed as Harry began working in a third finger.

“Is that what you want them, hm? Want me to have my way with you?”

“I want you to fuck me, please, fuck—“

Harry shushed him before easing out his fingers. He lined up carefully, his other hand on Draco’s hip. He started to push in and Draco moaned, his legs going weak, shaking. Harry supported him, holding on to both hips now as he pushed all the way in, not stopping until he was fully pressed against Malfoy.

He could hear Draco panting hard, taking shallow breaths in and moaning on each exhale. Bracing his forehead on Draco’s shoulder, Harry watched him cock disappear in and out of Draco as he began thrusting. It was unlike anything he had experienced before. Combined with the sounds that Draco was making, Harry wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to last much longer.

It was then that he noticed one of Draco’s hands moving to his front, pulling out his own cock. Harry’s mind flashed to what Draco had said about him being domineering and he leaned forward to whisper in Draco’s ear.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He took Draco’s wrist in his hand, pulling it behind his back and deciding to take him up on that offer he had made to get him here. He pulled out the handcuffs and locked both of Draco’s hands behind his back causing him to press more of his weight against the door.

Draco was moaning loudly— there wasn’t likely to be anyone coming down the hall and attempting to open the door. What they were doing was obvious. Deciding to pick up the pace, Harry went back to twisting one of his hands in Draco’s soft, blonde hair. He was thrusting hard now and Draco had no hands to brace himself. A subtle part of Harry hoped he would have bruises on his face from being pressed against the door.

He knew he was getting close and by the sound of Draco’s moans, he was getting there as well. Not removing his hand from Draco’s hair, Harry reached the other one around and began tugging on Malfoy’s cock in time with his thrusts. It wasn’t long before they both came, Harry sinking his teeth into Malfoy’s shoulder and Draco positively screaming.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Harry pressed his forehead between Draco’s shoulders blades. He could feel Draco go limp underneath him, also breathing heavily.

It was Draco who spoke first, just after Harry pulled out. “So, are you going to take me out of these handcuffs or not?”

He was glancing over his shoulder and Harry met his eyes in a defiant glare. “Who says I’m not still going to arrest you?”

“Is one of my rights your cock up my arse?” Harry laughed at that. “But in all seriousness, you’re not going to arrest me. Come back with me.”

Fuck, not this again. “I can’t.” Draco had turned around to face him and was looking rather intimidating despite the disheveled hair and the fact his pants and trousers were pushed halfway to his knees.

“Why not?”

As Harry spoke, he tucked himself back into his jeans. “Because I can’t just leave my friends, my life?”

“Unfortunately, the vigilante life isn’t all that accommodating in that way. But it is more fulfilling. You know it’s what you want to do.”

Harry felt awful. It was what he wanted to do. Maybe the shag was screwing with his mind, but Draco was right.

“You don’t understand. I can’t just leave Ron. We’re partners. I can’t have my best friend trying to arrest me.”

Draco shrugged, as if to say ‘that’s it? No big deal.’ “Well, then, we’ll bring him in, too.”

“But, what if—“

“What if he tries to flip and turn us in? Not going to happen. He’s shit with technology and we’ve got Hermione. He’ll get on board eventually.”

“Yes, I suppose Granger would be thrilled.”

“Let me talk to her. Look, just. I’ll text you an address. Be there tonight, yeah?”

Fine. “Yeah.” Harry thought for a moment. “I’m not going to uncuff you, though. See you tonight.” Harry winked as he moved Malfoy to the side in order to unlock the door and leave the pub.

__________

Stupid arsehole, he had swiped the keys for the cuffs. How much of an idiot did he think Draco was? Three minutes later, Draco was walking out of the pub without looking disheveled in the slightest. Perfectly composed. Now, he just had to explain to Hermione what was going to happen.

__________

It was easy enough to get Ron to the address Draco had texted him. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, though. It felt like a complete betrayal to Ron. Harry was, essentially, letting him and his partner be abducted by criminals.

They stepped out of the car, about to walk into the bistro when a car pulled up at the kerb. The window of the familiar car rolled down, revealing Draco’s face and a gun he pointed at both of them. “Get in the car.”

Ron looked about, panicked, not knowing what to do. Harry, however, did as Draco said, opening the door and climbing into the back, feeling like a madman. Ron followed his lead.

The door closed behind Ron and Granger began driving. “Put these on.” Draco handed back two blindfolds and Ron exchanged a horrified and panicked look with Harry before beginning to tie his. “And, if you try and communicate a way out of this with each other, I _will_ know.”

Harry suspected Granger was driving them in a roundabout way to wherever they were going. Eventually, the car stopped and Ron and Harry were both ushered out at gunpoint and into a building. It wasn’t until they were inside a flat that their blindfolds were removed. Draco moved to stand by Harry.

Hermione smiled at them, but it was a tad forced. “So glad you decided to join us.”

“Join— what—“ Ron sputtered. “What do you mean, join? We would never—“ He cut off, noticing his best friend’s guilty face. “Harry, what did you do?”

“Your friend here has sold you out,” Hermione informed him. “We’ll give you the option of joining us or staying locked in this apartment for a couple of weeks while we move on to somewhere else.”

“But—“ Ron was staring at Harry, who was standing next to Malfoy. Then, a weird calm settled over him as he looked at the two. “Holy shit, you two fucked.”

Draco scoffed as Harry raised his head saying, “No, what? Why would I— Him?”

“Oh, shut up. You’re not convincing anyone. You always get that look after you’ve had sex where you give the person this shy little smile as if everyone else is just as oblivious to their surroundings as you are. You two fucked. Don’t try to deny it.”

Now Hermione was staring accusingly at Draco. “Draco, is this true?”

He shrugged, refusing to meet her eyes. “Draco Malfoy, did you fuck Harry Potter when I specifically told you not to?”

Now they were both yelling. “It’s not like you can blame me! Have you seen the man—“

“—I ask for one thing and—“

“—Hermione he’s irresistible—“

“—I actually asked you _not_ to fuck him and you couldn’t even handle—“

“—You don’t understand, he’s—“

Hermione took a step forward and slapped Draco. The room went into a stunned silence before Draco turned back to face her running his cheek. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

“Damn right you did.”

“Hey, he switched sides just like I told you he would, didn’t he?”

She gave him a look that made all the room want to shrivel into the wall. “I guess he did.”

Hermione took a step back before turning her gaze to Ron. “Alright, Weasley. Time for you to decide. Who’s side are you on?”

Ronald Weasley, bless him, was looking at Hermione Granger in a way that could only be described as awe. The way she commanded the room. When she slapped Malfoy, he may have fallen in love with her a bit.

“I’m with you,” he said, honestly. No one could tell at the time that when he said ‘you’ he had most definitely meant Hermione above all else.

So, there they were. Draco and Hermione’s vigilante group had just doubled. And, with two turned law enforcement agents at that. Could there really be anything better? Hermione and to admit, Draco had done well with this.

“Alright. Let’s get started then.” Hermione clapped her hands and held up a picture. “This is our next target. He runs a pharmaceutical company that....”

__________

_Three Years Later_

  
Draco grabbed a flute of champagne as the tray passed, happy to enjoy himself at this ball. All seemed to be going well. Their target, politician Pansy Parkinson was in attendance and Hermione was making her way over to introduce herself.

Their communication devices crackled to life in Draco’s ear. “That’s my wife.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you go get her, babe. Get that corrupt politician. Best honeymoon _ever_!”

Draco exchanged a glance with his boyfriend, who was talking to a terribly overdressed woman. Speaking carefully so it would look like he was sipping champagne, Draco responded.

“Weasel, if you don’t shut up about how excited you are to be married to Hermione, I _will_ ride your best friend in front of you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco was able to catch Harry almost do a spit take, the nice old lady he was talking to coming over to pat him on the back as he choked.

“Alright, fine.” Came the response in his ear.

It didn’t take too long for Hermione to seduce Parkinson up to her hotel room— tactics taught courtesy of Draco himself— where they had already set up all of the equipment needed to broadcast her forced confessional about all of her lies and scandals. Ron readied the getaway while Draco and Hermione talked Parkinson through it, and Harry remained downstairs, keeping Parkinson’s girlfriend and anyone else away from the room.

Honestly, Draco felt like he wasn’t getting enough thanks. There were jobs they had pulled off in the last two years that they would never have been able to do just the two of them. Not to mention, he found Hermione a husband. He deserved a couple of thank yous.

Then again, just going home each night after a job and curling up in bed with Harry Potter could be considered payment enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Please feel free to leave a comment and/ or message me on [ tumblr ](https://www.shelvesuponshelves.tumblr.com)
> 
> The drarry playlist is [ here ](https://open.spotify.com/user/jamesilver/playlist/1fIuJApIJzhm1snajKKmrm?si=-n08dDFGRZ6_1xCZlDbLug)
> 
> Also, feel free to leave any song recommendations for the playlist!! I will continue to write more fics based off of songs and they will be added into this series!!
> 
> I am also currently taking ficlet requests on [ tumblr ](https://www.shelvesuponshelves.tumblr.com)
> 
> __________
> 
> All that shit about Hannah Abbott is made up don’t listen to anything I say. 
> 
> “Wouldn’t that table be bolted to the ground?” do i look like igaf?? you really think i’m gonna sacrifice an unbelievably hot moment because of a technicality??? please


End file.
